The Marriage Of London Tipton
by Poppy-Sox
Summary: Maddie hasn't seen London in months. Now she's shocked to learn that her friend is getting married! Although not quite as shocked as London herself... Probable MaddiexLondon
1. Chapter 1

**The Marriage Of London Tipton**

Chapter 1

Madeline Fitzpatrick, known to nearly all her friends simply as Maddie, finished wiping down the wooden top of the candy counter and glanced at her watch. _5:55_. She wasn't supposed to close up the counter until six, but things had been more relaxed at the Tipton Hotel since manager Mr. Moseby had left to oversee the running of the S.S. Tipton - the Tipton's first cruise ship - three months ago, dividing the managing of the hotel amongst the most senior staff members. Of course the Tipton Hotel still offered the finest service in Boston but the staff were slowly getting used to not having to constantly look busy or jump every time someone called their name.

_Yes, working at the Tipton was certainly more peaceful now, _Maddie thought to herself, managing to avoid adding _...and boring._

_5:57. That's it, time to shut up shop._ She locked the till beneath the counter and set the closed sign on the top. It wasn't like anyone was going to be buying candy or chocolate now anyway. It had been a busy day and her tip jar was satisfyingly full, but now all the guests were either in the restaurant or had gone out for the night and the lobby was quiet. _The lobby always seemed to be quiet at the moment._

"Are you okay, sweetie?"

Maddie hadn't realized how caught up she was in her own thoughts until the a voice made her jump. She looked up to see Carey Martin leaning on the counter. She hadn't even noticed her approach.

Carey was the hotel cabaret's vivacious headlining act, who could be relied on to sell out the ballroom for two shows every Tuesday night. To her audience, mostly made up of lonely businessmen far away from home, her seductive voice and good looks made her a sex symbol, but to Maddie she was like an understanding and cool older sister.

"What?" Maddie was so taken off guard by Carey's sudden appearance that she hadn't taken in what the older redhead had said.

"Sorry if I made you jump," Carey smiled sweetly at her. "You seemed a million miles away."

"I was just enjoying the peace and quiet," Maddie replied with a shrug.

"I know what you mean." Carey glanced around the lobby. She felt she really did know what Maddie meant. Her twin sons, Zack and Cody were also aboard the S.S. Tipton attending the ship's international school, and although she missed them every day, it was nice to go a day without receiving complaints from the staff or an invoice for breakages caused by the trouble-making duo. She still couldn't get used to the lack of chaos and almost expected the twins to come screaming or skateboarding through the nearly deserted lobby. "It makes a nice change."

"Yeah... nice," Maddie agreed, but it wasn't difficult for Carey to see that the young blonde wasn't as content as she was making herself out to be.

"Do you have any plans for tonight?" she asked, playing the older sister role once again. "Like maybe a hot date?"

"I wish," Maddie forced out a chuckle "No, I'm probably going to just go home. Chill out. I've got half a Jane Austin waiting for me."

"Okay, but if you feel like doing something I'll be singing in the ballroom at seven and nine. You're quite welcome to drop in and watch if you want," offered Carey, her mothering instinct, which had been unfulfilled since her boys went to sea, coming out. She stepped round the counter and gave Maddie a hug, as much for her own benefit as the teenager's.

Maddie had to bite her tongue from sighing in contentment. Her family was close but they preferred to show their love with passive aggressive insults and badly cooked food rather than physical contact, and a comforting hug was a rarity. "Thanks, I'll think about it," she replied.

Maddie watched Carey walk away towards the ballroom. She was already dressed for her performance and her slinky evening dress clung to her body without looking cheap. _God, I wish I had her body, _Maddie thought to herself. _So grown-up and sensual... _She giggled a the word 'sensual'. It was certainly not a thought the nuns who ran her school would approve of. _If I looked like her I wouldn't have trouble getting a boyfriend. Then I would be going home to get ready for a hot date rather than to read like a nerd. _

Not that she could even remember the last time she'd met a guy she'd been attracted to, never mind one she'd want to go out on a date with. Sure, she could consume the time between the monotony of work and sleep with her volunteer work, and she was thinking of learning the guitar, but it would have been nice to be taken out and made feel special for an evening. _All I want is a little fun, but no, looks like I'm stuck being the nerd experiencing love through the pages of a book._

She grabbed her bag from behind the counter and pocketed the money from the tip jar. _Nearly forty dollars closer to the dream of back-packing around Asia. _Instead of walking out through the front doors as she planned, however, she found herself doing exactly what she'd been doing for the past month; walking into the elevator and using her staff key to take herself to the penthouse on the 26th floor.

The elevator rose quickly, ignoring the summons of waiting guests on the lower floors. Maddie spent the short journey staring up at the flashing numbers, counting off the floors and trying to figure out as she did every night why she was in the elevator rather than out in the cold walking home... but once again finding herself unable to provide an answer.

The doors opened with a ding onto a short hallway, only a few feet long at the end of which stood a single door. Fastened to the wall next to the door was a brass plaque inscribed with the words _Tipton Penthouse Suite._

Maddie removed the room key she had borrowed from the office – a surprisingly easy task now the hawk-like Mr Moseby wasn't here to keep a close eye on everything. _Borrowed, not stolen. _No, Madeline Fitzpatrick would certainly never steal anything and had plans to put it back when she was finished with it... not that she knew when that would be as she didn't quite know why she'd taken it in the first place.

The door opened onto the hotel's most luxurious suite, that with it's vast walk-in closet and en-suite bathroom covered nearly the entire top floor of the hotel. With it's carpets so thick you sank into them, it's expensive antique furniture and it's french windows opening onto a balcony with a breath-taking view over Boston, the suite was the finest in the city and reserved for only the most honored and picky of guests. It's luxury was fitting as it had been the permanent home to London Tipton, the hotel owner's daughter, for most of her teenage years until she too had left to attend school aboard the S.S. Tipton.

There were a few personal keep-sakes missing that London had taken with her and half the shelves and hangers in the walk-in closet were empty, but otherwise the suite was exactly as the hotel heiress had left it. All the furniture was still in place – the queen-sized bed still made, the top of the dressing table covered in bottles and ointments and pictures of London in gold frames. The only thing important thing missing was London herself. Without her suite felt empty and deathly quiet.

Maddie had stolen (_No, wait, borrowed_!) the room key about a week after London had left, and at first she'd just come up here to run a duster over the furniture and remake the bed. She wasn't sure why she was giving herself more work to do, except for a half-realized notion that London wouldn't be happy if her room didn't look and smell nice. London was her best friend after all, even if she was always ordering her around like she was a slave or insulting her clothes or her hair. Yes, London was her spoiled, selfish best friend.

As the months passed however, Maddie found herself spending more and more time in London's suite, even spending the night tucked up in the heiress's bed. She'd spent so many nights in the hotel she'd started bringing her pajamas and a change of clothes in her bag. As long as she dropped in occasionally to see her parents they were too busy arguing (_or, eeww, making up_) to notice she wasn't spending the night.

She lay down on the bed, dropped her bag on the floor and tried once again to work out why she kept coming back up here. The suite was certainly nicer than her cramped little room at home, and the soft goose feather-filled mattress was unimaginably more comfortable than her own pull down cot, that was for sure, but she was almost positive there was more to it than that. Those first nights after everyone had left she had laid in bed feeling restless and unable to sleep. She couldn't stop thinking about how they were off having exciting adventures and seeing exotic locations while she was left at home, stuck in a rut. When she was in London's room, however, those thoughts went away and she could feel something resembling contentment, and although she wasn't sure why that was it was a welcome feeling...

_Gosh, this bed is soft. _Maddie buried her face in the soft eiderdown quilt with it's silk sheets. If she pushed her face deep into the material she could detect a scent that seemed familiar but she couldn't quite place it...

She opened her eyes and looked at the brass alarm clock on the bedside table. _8:55! _She hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep but she'd been out of it for almost two hours. She sat up rubbing her eyes. _8:55. _Carey's second show would soon be starting. Maybe she'd go down and catch the end after all.

She changed out of her creased, slept-in uniform into the clothes from her bag, resisting the urge to raid the remains of London's wardrobe. There were lots of designer items in there that she'd eyed jealously when she'd seen them on London, but to go rummaging through her friend's clothes while she was away just didn't seem right.

Leaving her bag on the floor she left the suite, locking the door behind her and taking the lift down to the ground floor. She was just walking through the lobby towards the ballroom, from which she could hear Carey getting into her first number, when her eye was caught by the curious sight of a group of the Tipton's staff crowded by the far wall, chattering amongst themselves excitedly.

"Miss Madeline!" She saw the tall frame of Esteban, the hotel's South American bellboy, standing head and shoulders above the rest of the group and calling her over in his heavily accented voice. "You have to see this."

As Maddie walked over she noticed with curiosity that the group were crowded around a poster on the wall that certainly hadn't been there when she'd gone upstairs. She elbowed her way through the crowd anxious to see what all the fuss was about, with Esteban helping to herd people out of her way until she was in front of the poster...

She had to scan the poster twice before she could make herself believe what she was reading, her mouth hanging open in shock....

Staff and guests of the Tipton Hotel

I, Wilfred Tipton, am proud to announce the engagement of my daughter

London Tipton

to

Jacques Claret-Monet

We are joyed to announce that the ceremony will take place on the

12th of July aboard the S.S. Tipton

I'm sure you will join me in wishing the happy couple a lifetime of contentment together

-W.T

**TO BE CONTINUED....**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Marriage Of London Tipton**

Chapter 2

Nearly 3000 miles away from Boston, just off the coast of Portugal, London Tipton was pacing across the cabin she shared aboard the SS. Tipton... and straight into the wall. _Ow_! She rubbed her nose which was beginning to become quite sore and cursed herself for once again forgetting how small the cabin was. _There's more room to pace in my closet at home. _

Feeling that three was probably enough times to walk into the cabin wall she sat herself down on her bed with a sigh, and instead tried to relieve her nervous energy by tapping her bedazzled shoes on the floor while staring at her watch. _Let's see... If the big hand is... and the little hand is at... 8:55. _Her father, industrialist and entrepreneur Wilfred Tipton had arranged, through his secretary of course, to see her at 8:30 which meant he was... _ten... fifteen... twenty... erm..._

He was late, and that was all that mattered!

She stopped trying to work out the time as it was making her head hurt, but found she couldn't stop looking at her watch... and not just because it was shiny. Normally she loved looking at her watch. Pure 24 carat gold inlaid with diamonds, it was delicate while still being eye-catching, plus if she angled it just right she could see her reflection and that was always fun. It said something that she'd had it for over a year, rather than throwing it away at the end of the month with her other jewelery.

Right now however something about it's appearance annoyed her. It's normal pleasing design looked strangely ugly to her and it felt much too tight around her wrist. She unfastened it and threw it carelessly onto the bedside table where it collided with a clatter against a picture frame. She then kicked off her shoes for good measure and proceeded tapping her bare feet against the cheap artificial fibers of the carpet.

Several more minutes ticked by unobserved until the cabin door opened and, without knocking, her father entered. _At least, I think it's Daddy. _It was difficult to be sure since he was, as usual, surrounded by bodyguards. Big burly men in tailored suits and sunglasses that hid her diminutive father from view. It was only because she recognized one of the men as the one who'd been sent to observe her 4th grade play in place of her daddy that she was sure it was him.

Her father waited for his entourage to shuffle through the narrow doorway and form a tight circle around him before speaking. "You asked to see me, Buttercup," his deep English accent rising from the midst of the expressionless guards.

_See you? Maybe if you weren't always surrounded by those dumb men, _London thought to herself. Normally she would have said it out loud as she rarely bothered to censor her thoughts before speaking them, but her father was a different matter. Although he spoiled his only daughter he was also a strict disciplinarian. He was the one person who could punish London or make her do something she didn't want to. He was also the only person she was scared of. Instead she said "There's a poster up on the entertainment deck..."

"I'm sorry London, I meant to talk to you before they were posted, bit of a mix-up in the advertising department," her father apologized, although without being able to see his face it was impossible to tell if he was sincere.

"The waiter I got to read it to me told me it said I was getting married," London continued hesitantly.

"That's right."

"It's just I don't remember getting engaged." London paused and then, because she'd forgotten lots of things in the past, added "I didn't, did I?"

"London, you're growing up and I think it's time you were talked to like an adult." Despite his words her father sounded as if he was trying to explain something to a child. "I'm afraid I'm bankrupt. Hardly a penny to my name." He sounded more miserable than London had ever heard him, much more so than when he'd split up with any of his wives, even the second one and he'd been married to her for over a year.

London tried to comprehend what her father was telling her, but found it just made her head hurt again. "But I'm rich," she exclaimed, then as if she was trying to prove the fact she added "I have a no limits credit card!"

"Not anymore. Everything, including the money in your account was tied up in the running of my oil fields." A heavy sigh arose from the space between the stony-faced bodyguards. "Unfortunately those damn natives decided they wanted their scrap of dirt back. Seems they had themselves a revolution; killed a few people, burnt down some farms and most importantly blew up my bloody refinery."

Unsure of what to say London offered, "That doesn't seem very nice?"

"Damn right, it wasn't nice!" Her father's voice burst from the middle of the group. "I've lost nearly everything thanks to those bastards!"

"What, even the diamond mine?" asked London, trying her hardest to come to terms with what her father was telling her.

"Yes London, everything."

"Even Tipton Motors and Elecfonics?"

Another heavy sigh rose from her father. "Yes, even Tipton Motors and ElecTRonics."

"Even the Tipton unicorn farm?" she asked with growing desperation.

"London, that was a drawing you did in the 2nd grade. but even if it did exist I'd have lost it," her father snapped with a voice that told her not to keep on with this line of questioning.

She was quiet for a moment while she considered the news of her father's bankruptcy, before emerging with a question she felt was quite sensible. "Daddy was has this got to do with me getting married?"

"Well Blossom, the one thing I have managed to keep hold of is the Tipton Olive Oil company." There was a pause during which the noise of a lighter and a column of thin gray smoke from behind the security signified her father had lit one of his cigars.

"Is olive oil worth a lot of money?" London asked hopefully.

"Not on it's own, No. That's were the Claret-Monet family come in. That bastard Pierre Claret-Monet produces half the world's vinegar. If I can convince him to merge businesses I'll own a portion of the largest vinaigrette business in the world. There won't be a salad from Tokyo to New York that won't be covered in Tipton/Monet salad dressing." She heard her father take another puff on his cigar as another cloud of smoke rose into the air. "Only problem is the cantankerous old frog wants to keep the business in the family, and that means finding a wife for his idiot of a son, Jacques. Which is where you come in, buttercup."

London hadn't really been able to follow the explanation of her father's business dealings, but she was sure she understand the last bit. "But I don't know anything about this... Jack."

"Jacques," her father corrected. "And he's heir to a $4 billion a year vinegar empire and his family own half of Bordeaux, what more is there to know?"

"I don't care how much of Mexico he owns."

"Bordeaux is in France, London." Her father explained, adopting the condescending tone he used when addressing the hired help. "You like France, remember. It's where all your shoes come from."

London looked down at the bedazzled pumps that were lying haphazardly on the floor where they'd landed after being kicked carelessly across the room. It was funny, she loved those shoes but right now they didn't seem as pretty or as sparkly as they usually did. "Daddy, I don't think I want to get married," she said using the quiet, sulky voice that nearly always got her what she wanted.

This time however, Daddy was not going to be wrapped around her finger. "Listen, young lady!" he snapped. "Do you have any idea how much money you've cost me over the years? Why, what you're wearing now is probably worth more than any of these men make in a year." If any of her father's security had a problem with his remarks about their pay they didn't let it show on their blank faces. "It's time you started giving something back to this family."

"But," London started, but her father wouldn't let her interrupt his tirade.

"You live a more than comfortable life, London. We both know you're not going to be able to function without the tropical holidays and the expensive clothes and the lavish shopping sprees, so why don't you just get on board with this wedding." There was some restless shuffling from the circle of security as they prepared for Mr Tipton's exit, clearly realizing the conversation was reaching it's conclusion. He had one last thing to say to his daughter before he left. "One more thing, I've arranged for you to have dinner with Jacques tomorrow night, during which I expect you to formally accept his offer of marriage. Take my word for it young lady, this wedding is happening."

London stood watching her father's security trying to squeeze themselves through the narrow doorway all at once, unsure of how she should feel. Her head was never busy with thoughts but now it seemed especially blank. Suddenly through the blackness one question took form. "Daddy?" she called after him, and the security bumped unceremoniously into each other as her father came to a halt.

"Yes?" came the weary voice of her father, clearly not in the mood for any further argument over the impending nuptials.

"Have we lost the Boston hotel?"

"London, I told you I've lost everything." Her father snapped clearly tired of answering questions.

"What about the people that work there?"

"They'll probably end up back on the streets." Her father replied, something in his voice suggesting that he didn't really care about their situation.

"And if I marry this France-ish guy then we'll get the hotel back and everyone will keep their jobs?" she continued hesitantly, unsure why she was asking or what ideas were forming in her head.

"Yes."

London then did something she'd never done before; spent a moment collecting her thoughts before finally coming to a conclusion. "Okay then," she spoke in an almost inaudible whisper, "I'll have dinner with him."

"Glad to hear it!" For the first time since he'd entered the room her father actually sounded happy. "He'll be expecting you in the V.I.P. dining hall on the top deck at 7 o'clock tomorrow night." With his final decree still hanging in the air with his cigar smoke, he and his entourage were gone without a word of goodbye. They hadn't even bothered to close the door after them.

She'd have done anything to be able to just forget about the conversation with her father. _If only he'd been trying to teach me history or geography... or science, I always forget what people tell me about those._ Unfortunately a reminder of her father hung in the air. She wrinkled her nose at the acrid, foul odour of his cigar.

Prying the room's porthole window open with some difficulty, she stuck her head out into the fresh night air. In the darkness the sea was an endless shadow without depth or color over which the lights from the ship played, unable to penetrate it's black, still surface. A cold breeze swept over the surface of the water, biting into her cheeks. Fresh from sailing through the heat of the Mediterranean it was strange to feel the cold again. It reminded her of Boston. _It's always cold in Boston. _For a moment she was back in the city, which was the closest thing to something she could call home, standing on the balcony of her penthouse.

It took her a second to realize that her eyes were filling with tears.

She turned away from the porthole as the tears started to run down her cheeks. _Why am I crying? I must allergical to the sea, or the night time... or more likely Bailey's poorness _she thought, glancing at her room-mate's cheap possessions. It was no wonder that London's first thought was that she was having an allergic reaction as she rarely shed tears. When she cried it usually just involved making a noise until somebody gave her attention... or anything else she wanted. But these tears rolled down her face with barely a sniffle, and no-one around to hear even that small sound.

She turned to her closet, knowing that gazing upon her clothes, touching them, maybe trying on a few pieces was the only thing that could lift her spirits on those rare moments she wasn't feeling her usually upbeat self. As she drew aside the sliding door the mass of expensive garments that she had crushed into the tiny space available to her sprang forth, falling into a heap at her feet. She looked down at the designer gowns, jewel decorated garments, the delicate fabrics, chiffon and silk that usually gave her rush of excitement and happiness, but was surprised to find that the tears only flowed more strongly.

_How can I feel happy? _she thought to herself, and the pile of clothes faded into a blur through her tears. _All my favorite things are back in Boston!_

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


End file.
